Weasel Of Doom

There is a rocking chair in D.’s room. (That was B.’s birthday gift for himself. I am not big on rocking chairs, they tend to make me feel car sick.) Every once in a while, when D. can’t sleep, he would crawl into the chair with his blankie and toy(s) of choice, and rock himself back to sleep. Of course, this is D. we are talking about here, so the rocking in question is not gentle. We can hear the “thump thump thump” building up speed, and often wonder what would happen when the chair actually tips over. As of Saturday morning, we don’t have to wonder anymore.

We heard D. get into the chair and start the rocking. Faster and faster the thumps went, until finally there was a rather final “thwap” followed by silence. We rushed to his room. The chair was laying on its back, and D. was sitting on the bed wearing a “who, me? I had NOTHING to do with this chair on the floor, why would you even suspect such a thing?” look. Well, kiddo, seeing as how you were the only person in the room with the gate locked, this ain’t exactly a great mystery. Not to mention we heard the whole thing.

Oh, and once we came into the room, D. got off the bed and started trying to push the chair back upright, saying “up up up.”

Sunday night, we heard him go back into the chair. D.’s new toy de jour is Mr. Banana (which was his favorite thing ever when he was S.’s age, and apparently now D. has rediscovered it), and it jingles when moved. So around 2 am, we heard “jingle jingle jingle-jingle … thump thump thump … jingle thump…. jungle… thump…” – D. has rocked himself to sleep, without flipping the chair over.